Journal of the FBI Intern
by ReidWatson
Summary: The continuation of 'The Journal of Sara Reid.' Following the death of Emily Prentiss, life continues for genius Spencer Reid and his younger sister, and the rest of the team.
1. The Reids: Two Months After

Doctor Spencer Reid locked the apartment door deadbolt and dropped his coat in the hall. It was late in the evening and he had spent the last hour and a half talking to JJ. His limbs were heavy, his eyelids were drooping, and the one thing he wanted was to collapse on his couch, and sleep for six to eight hours straight.

The twenty-nine year old could have dropped onto the couch and fallen asleep very easily if there hadn't been a slight catch in his plan; there was already someone on the couch. He discovered this when said person let out a surprised yell after being sat on.

"WHAT?" Sara yelled, swinging her arm around wildly in the dark.

Spencer, who hadn't quite recovered from the shock of sitting on a person instead of the couch, stumbled backwards and landed painfully on the floor. "It's me!" He shouted back. There was a sharp pain radiating up his back, which wasn't doing much for his mood.

"Shut up!" A muffled voice shouted from the apartment beneath them.

The two Reids were silent for a moment. Spencer sighed and heaved himself off the floor, rubbing his back. "Nice to see you too," He said sarcastically, sitting down on the couch again, this time not on his half-sister.

"Sorry," She said sheepishly. Then, maybe when she remembered why she'd shouted in the first place added, "You scared me!"

Spencer shook his head. "Why aren't you in bed?" He asked, looking over the mess on the coffee table.

"Because I don't have to get up early tomorrow," She answered, picking up her glasses from the table and slipping them over her ears.

"That's right, how was the last day?" Spencer asked.

It was mid-May, and the fifteen year old high school senior had finished final exams a week earlier. The seniors were given exams early to ensure that their college of choice received their grades in time to enroll in the fall. The seniors' last weeks of classes were mostly sitting around and being nostalgic about the last four years, two in Sara's case.

"It was alright," She answered shortly. "I got a letter from Georgetown today. They're 'very excited to have me joining the Georgetown family this fall, and look forward to seeing me!" She said, mimicking the overly-perky voice of an infomercial saleswoman. "You know the Georgetown University mascot is a bulldog?"

"What?" Spencer asked, the soreness in his back giving way to fatigue again.

"Why a bulldog though? It's so lame, Butler University's mascot is a bulldog too. We could have had something cool, like an orange, or a kangaroo."

"Not excited about going to Georgetown?" Spencer asked, trying to keep from falling asleep after a long day at work and visit with JJ.

Sara sighed and stood up from the couch. She stepped over to one of the many bookshelves in the apartment and went to the one place void of any books. She picked up the silver frame and looked at it in the light of the streetlamps streaming in through the curtains. Spencer heard her clear her throat a few times.

"No, I'm just in a bad mood I guess. It's two months today," She said quietly.

The frame in her hands contained a photo of four people. The farthest left was the young doctor; his hair had been longer then and gave him an even more youthful appearance which matched the smile he wore perfectly. He had his arm draped around his sister's shoulders. Sara was laughing about something the photographer, Garcia, had said. Her hair was being ruffled by Emily- the late Emily Prentiss. She too was laughing, brown eyes shining brightly, one arm thrown carelessly around Derek Morgan's shoulders.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, feeling the familiar ache it always had when someone mentioned Emily. It was the same reason he visited JJ every evening after work; he missed his friend so much it hurt, and it hurt constantly.

"Yeah, I know," He said.

The two fell silent again, both minds racing with memories of their lost friend. Beside the ache in his chest that he felt whenever he thought of Emily, there was another feeling that was growing steadily worse- craving. In spite of his best efforts, the craving for Dilaudid was still there.

Beginning to feel fidgety from sitting so long, Spencer stood up from the couch and pulled on Sara's shirt sleeve, effectively breaking her out of her thoughts. "You should get to bed," He told her, heading in the direction of his own room.

She looked at the photo for another moment and replaced it on the shelf. "Yeah, ok," She said resignedly, leaning back to stretch. She stifled a yawn and followed her brother down the hall. "See you in the morning," She said quietly.

"Yep, goodnight," Spencer said, stopping by his bedroom door to let her pass down the hall.

"'Night," She said back, slipping into her own room and shutting the door.

-x-X-x-

As soon as the sounds of Spencer getting ready for bed had died away, I got up from the floor and crept over to my bedroom door. Silently, I pushed my door open and slowly began to make my way down the hall, careful not to step on any of the spots that squeaked.

I paused outside Spencer's shut door, straining to hear any movement in the room. Hearing nothing, I hurried down the remainder of the hall and into the living room, quickly locating my shoes, keys, bag, and flashlight while making as little noise as possible.

By the time I was out the apartment door and down the first flight of stairs I had relaxed again, now confident that Spencer wouldn't realize I had left the house in the middle of the night. He hadn't caught me before and I didn't plan on that happening now.

Late night trips on the Metro no longer scared me. I attributed that to the Glock 17 that was tucked safely into my bag whenever I went on these sort of outings. That was another thing that Spencer didn't know.

When I returned to the surface I was on the other side of the city, two blocks from my destination. The short stretch of city that I had to pass through always made me panic a little, but the bright yellow street lights reassured me that no one was lurking in the shadows. Statistically speaking, there was someone lurking in some shadows somewhere, but I was taking my chances.

The low cemetery wall had become only a small challenge to scale whenever it struck my fancy to visit Emily during the night. The short jog from the wall to her headstone only struck a small amount of terror into my heart, and I had decided awhile ago that the few minutes that the stress was taking off my life expectancy was worth it.

"It was my last day today. Well, last official day anyway. I could have sworn our last official day was the last day before exams started, but I guess our principal just likes to recant everything he says," I said, sitting down beside the headstone and leaning against the side. "It's really cold out here. I know it doesn't bother you much, but I thought I'd tell you anyway." The hard stone edge of the headstone dug into the space between my shoulder blades as I looked up at the sky. This was one of the few places where you could still see some of the stars through the lights on the city, something I'd grown to appreciate lately.

"It's been two months, in case you're not keeping track. I'm not either really, but since we humans are morbid creatures we like to keep track of how long it's been since our loved ones met their end. I don't know Emily. I really don't."

I rambled on to the headstone for another fifteen minutes or so before the cold became too much for me and I decided it was time to go home. At some point in the last two months I had become very good at speaking at length with inanimate objects, actually just one object. I never talked about anything particular, because I could never be sure if Emily was listening or not.

I took the Red-Line back to Van Ness and returned to the apartment. The glimpse of myself that I caught in the mirror told me that my nose and cheeks was very red, which meant that my face was so cold it didn't realize it was cold at all, though there was a marked numb-tingly feeling in my skin. It was decidedly cold for May, which bothered me immensely.

When the Glock 17 had been replaced in the drawer in the living room, my shoes and bag left in their places my the door, and the apartment locked, I returned to my room to check the time. At nearly two in the morning, it had now been two months and one day since Emily died. With that in mind, I wrapped myself in my quilt, buried myself in pillows, and fell asleep.

_It hurts because it mattered. _


	2. Two Unexpected Things

Chapter 2: Two Unexpected Things

* * *

"Morning," Sara called down the hallway as she stumbled down the hallway.

"Afternoon," Her brother corrected her, poking his head out of the kitchen doorway for a moment before ducking back inside.

Sara followed him in, hair tangled on one side, glasses clipped to the collar of her sweater. She sniffed a few times and then glanced at the stove. "Are you cooking?" She asked.

"I am," Spencer answered.

"You don't cook," She said skeptically, putting her face dangerously close to the stove.

"Allow me to remind you _again_ that I actually lived by myself for _seven years_," Spencer pointed out sarcastically, pushing his sister out of his way.

"Yes, but what is that?" Sara asked, raising an eyebrow as he divided the contents of pan on to two plates.

Spencer rolled his eyes and set the plates on the table, "It's chicken pasta."

Sara sat down at her plate, "But there's cheese on it."

"So?"

"Is that a can of manwhich?" She asked, pointing to the mess on the counter.

"Just eat, would you?" Spencer asked, pushing her plate closer to her.

Sara grimaced, "I'm not saying you'll poison me, but when the EMTs show up make sure they bring this to the hospital."

Having delayed the inevitable for long enough, she ended her stream of complaints and picked up a fork. Spencer began to eat his chicken-pasta-which-happened-to-have-cheese-on-it- and-possibly-manwhich while watching his sister out of the corner of his eye. Having taken a few cautious bites of the first meal her brother had prepared on his own in over three months, Sara was silently cleaning her plate, a little disappointed that there wasn't even an awful after taste to mock her brother about.

Spencer sat watching as his sister finished the last of her food, looking immensely pleased with himself and more than a little smug. He began to say something when a phone rang in the other room.

"Thank you for the meal brother, excuse me," Sara said, feigning formality as she rose from the table. Spencer laughed and waved her away, wondering how long it would take to clean off the counter.

"Hello?" Sara answered the phone, the earring stud she wore knocking against the cell phone screen.

"Hi," Said a man on the other line.

Not recognizing the voice, she waited for him to announce who he was.

"Sorry, who is this?" She said after a few moments.

The man laughed uncomfortably, "Oh, sorry. This is Sara, right?"

"Yes, who would you be?"

"Charlie Hillridge… sorry was this a bad time?"

Sara fumbled with the phone, "No, of course not! Hi, how are you?" She said quickly.

Of course she remembered Charlie Hillridge. Nearly a year earlier he and two other girls had been rescued from a house on Mosley Lane near Ashburn Virginia. He'd saved the girls and shot his captor moments before Derek and Emily had arrived. She'd only been filled in the details long after the kids had left with their families.

What she remembered was the sheer relief in his eyes, standing there in the middle of the FBI, safe for the first time in what must have felt like decades. His hair had been shaggy, and he had a thin layer of dirt covering him at the time. He'd looked lost.

"Better," He said simply. "A lot better actually."

"That's good," She said happily, stunned that he remembered their brief meeting so long ago.

Another brief pause.

"I found the card you gave me, and I thought I'd call to say hi," Charlie said by way of an explanation. He didn't sound nervous at all, but confused by how to proceed.

"Well thanks, I'm glad to hear from you," Sara answered, walking in lazy circles around the room, running a finger along the spines of the books stacked neatly on each of the walls.

"This is sort of weird, but would you want to hang out sometime? I don't go to school, and it's been hard meeting people our age," He continued, audibly fumbling with the phone. "I know it's weird, but Mom's been worried that I haven't started making friends."

Though she hadn't met Sarah Hillridge, Spencer had told her about Charlie's mother, and her son making friends seemed like the sort of thing that she would worry about. Mrs. Hillridge had lost eight years with her son, and had missed eight years of helping him learn to maneuver the world. Of course she wanted the best for her son, which would be for him to adjust to living in the world he'd missed so much of.

"It's not weird, believe me," Sara assured him. The situation was weird, but understandable. "We could make plans to do something this week if you want, I'm already done with school for the year."

Charlie smiled to himself, making friends seemed easier than he'd anticipated. This was easier than trying to talk to his sister's friends, being introduced to someone who already knew you as 'Emily's little brother who was abducted for eight years' put a damper on things pretty easily.

"Good, can I call you about it in a few days?" He asked, not wanting to keep Sara on the phone for too long.

"Sure, talk to you soon."

"Bye."

Sara waited for Charlie to hang up before pushing 'end call'. She slipped the phone into the pocket of the hoodie she wore over her pajamas and flopped over on the couch, sinking into the scratchy cushions.

"Who was that?" Spencer asked, stepping into the living room. He pushed Sara's legs off the couch without a second thought before dropping into the place they had previously occupied, putting his own up on the coffee table. As usual, his socks don't match.

Sara felt the phone in her pocket, still in a state of disbelief. "Charlie Hillridge," She answered, sounding shocked by her own answer.

Spencer's eyebrows shot up, eyes wide. "You mean-?"

"Yeah, that one," She assured him. "He was looking for someone to be friends with, and he found the card I gave him." She paused, running a thumb over the corner of the cell phone that stuck out of her pocket. "I thought he must have forgot about me."

"I doubt Charlie's the type of person who can forget people," Spencer said thoughtfully.

"You're probably right," Sara agreed with him.

Spencer smiled at her, "And I doubt he'd forget I can cook," He muttered sarcastically.

Sara snorted, "You can't cook, and you've never cooked for me once!"

Spencer stared back at her incredulously, watching the smirk spread across his sister's face. She does her best to look back at him innocently, but it's obvious that she's pleased with herself. Spencer rolled his eyes and pushed her lightly on the shoulder, hard enough for her to tip over on the couch.

"It's one in the afternoon, get dressed. Sleeping that long is going to lower your life expectancy," He smirked back, getting up from the couch, the pile of dishes still waiting for him in the kitchen.

_The quieter you become the more you can hear_

* * *

_Hi guys, I know it's been a Long Time. Sorry. But I'm back on track for writing now and I have a lot planned, so thanks for your patience. _


	3. Movies and New Jobs

Movies And New Jobs

"Sara, wake up," Spencer said, cautiously poking me in the forehead.

"I'm awake," I answered, my eyes firmly shut. "What?"

"It's only seven at night and you're already passed out on the sofa, you need to get out of the house," He said, I assumed he was frowning.

"And?" I asked tiredly, opening my eyes a hair to glance up at him.

"Your sleep pattern is both irregular and disturbing," He said matter-of-factly. I noticed that his coat and shoes were still on even though he had been home a few minutes.

"I've been sitting around the house for a week with nothing to do. Give me problems, give me work! And besides, you're the one who always talks about how awesome naps are… and what do you mean by disturbing?" I demanded, sitting up and adjusting my glasses.

"I'm working on finding you something to do, but in the meantime you need to keep busy. Yes, naps are 'awesome,' some cultures even encourage them. And as for disturbing, you were asleep under the kitchen table yesterday!"

I smirked, "Scared you pretty good when you came in for breakfast though, huh?"

Spencer sighed at me, "Do you want to go to a movie? Morgan, Garcia and Seaver are waiting in his car downstairs."

-x-X-x-

"_He thought my sleep patterns were disturbing and irregular, so he brings me to a horror movie," _I thought, trailing beside Morgan as the five of us strolled away from the theater.

"It's not necessary! There's too much gore and blugh!" Garcia complained, pointing back towards the theater.

"Garcia it's a slasher film, how do you do a slasher film without violence?" Spencer asked, looking confused. Ashley walked beside him, a grin on her face.

"You imply it!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger at my brother.

"Baby, the film is called Slice 6, what were you expecting?" Morgan asked.

Here she faltered. "Uh- A refreshing beverage with a twist of comedy. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks!"

"With everything that we do and see on a weekly basis, that got to you?" Ashley asked.

"Listen, noob, you may be all Sigourney Weaver-ass kicking-tough, but the mystical maidens of innocence like myself and Pixie jump at things that go bump in the night!" Garcia insisted, shaking me by the shoulder.

"Me? That didn't bother me at all! In fact the special effects were barely up to par. Animated blood, come on now," I said sarcastically. "As for you, you have Morgan to protect you!"

"Yeah, as long as he's not jumping out of his chair like a pre-pubescent school girl!" Spencer laughed.

Morgan turned to glare at him, "The only reason I jumped is 'cause you guys woke me up."

"How could you sleep during that?" Garcia demanded.

"Easy! You guys drag me out after a twelve hour work day. You're telling me that girl didn't know the unsub was waiting for her upstairs?"

"Villain," Spencer corrected him. "In movies unsubs are called villains."

"My bad."

-x-X-x-

"What we didn't see coming was that the Slicer's brother was in the closet!" Spencer was energetically explaining to Rossi the following morning.

Having told me that I was going to work with him today, Spencer had spent most of the morning insisting that I dress nicely, wear comfortable shoes, and have something for breakfast even though he never did. So far nothing that had happened since our arrival at the FBI had given me any hint as to why I had made these special preparations, but I suspected it wasn't just so Spencer could tell Rossi about new horror movies.

"Frightening," Rossi said, feigning interest as we made our was towards the bull pen.

"His betrayal had consumed him until he was obsessed with making him his own private hell."

"Speaking of horror," Rossi said. We could see Strauss in Hotch's office, deep in discussion.

"What's Strauss doing here?" I wondered aloud.

"Whatever it is I cast my vote on 'not good,'" Said Garcia.

The group dispersed and I followed Spencer to his desk. He sat down in his chair and began pulling files out of his desk, acting oblivious to my presence. I watched him for a minute or two before asking anything.

"Spence," I said.

"Uh-huh?" He asked, adding his signature to the end of a case report.

"What am I doing here?"

"Working," He answered promptly.

"Working?" I asked, looking around the bullpen.

"Working," Anderson repeated, appearing beside me. "Well, we have to get your paperwork squared away first."

"Wait, what do you mean? My internship doesn't start 'till Fall!" I exclaimed.

"I called in a favor; Anderson found a spot for you. You're going to be working with him from now on," Spencer explained.

"How does coffee runs and making millions copies sound?" Anderson asked.

I considered this for only a moment, "Sounds good boss."


End file.
